


Maybe Someday

by anya_ackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Cursed Sam, Denial, First Time, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Witches, light non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11810961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anya_ackles/pseuds/anya_ackles
Summary: “It was on me. I raised you. I influenced you.”“Oh, don’t be such a dick. Not everything revolves around you.” Sam saysWhere Sam gets cursed and they don't exactly know what it is but they soon start to figure it out.Case fic.





	1. Chapter 1

  
Sam was simply exhausted.

  
They are driving away from their last case in Colorado, him and Dean. Winter is almost upon them and the chill in the car is starting to get Sam’s attention. He shivers reluctantly and Dean immediately reaches out to switch on the heater. Sam grunts softly, gratefully. Dean keep his eyes on the road, soft rock music playing on the radio that always plays during their night drives because Dean knows it’ll lull Sam right to sleep. Sam almost didn’t notice these things before. He's starting to now though.  
Exactly two weeks ago, Sam and Dean were in Colorado hunting a rugaru. It was nasty as it always is with these primitive creatures. When it turned out that a witch was partnering up, basically keeping this rugaru as her slave to kill and gather human parts and what not, it got worse. The rugaru had tried to flee and led them straight to the witch. While Dean burned him before he could warn the witch, Sam stealthily invaded her little shack with witch killing bullets. Just as he entered the bedroom though, he was hit with a damp smelling fog. He could feel his eyes burn, lungs struggling to draw in breath. He thought he was dying. He saw a blob of shadow move past him towards the back door as his vision started to blur. He screamed for Dean.

  
He remembered the ache in his chest, like a silver knife twisting inside him and not stopping. He started to fall just as Dean burst in, probably gun raised above his shoulder, Sam couldn’t be sure. Dean had screamed his name and the witch got away.  
Dean was furious to say the least. It took a valiant effort for him to drag Sam and himself out of there and into the fresh air outside where he could lay Sam down and finally breathe. Sam had been unconscious the whole time.

  
When Sam had woken up, it was in their motel, with Dean sitting on the other bed, head in hand, staring at the floor between his knees.  
“Dean.” Sam croaked.  
Dean’s head jerked up to look at his brother. His worrisome face not easing much. Sam wondered how badly hurt he was. He felt fine.  
“How do you feel?” Dean asked softly.  
Sam grunted in response.   
In the following days Dean had cautiously expressed how pale Sam looked, like he’d lost a ton of blood and that it was worrying him. Sam had stared worriedly back at Dean because his brother does not explicitly express his emotions in so many words. Over the next couple of days though, Sam began to worry himself.  
They were in over two towns from the rugaru and witch case. Something was dragging away homeless people from the streets and into the woods and shredding them apart but no heart was missing. Almost half a dozen had been murdered before a real investigation had even started.  
“Hello, I’m agent Shwagner and this is-“   
“Yeah, yeah, we were expecting you guys.” Dean gets interrupted by the sheriff at the latest crime scene. “This way.” He leads them towards a small clearing in the deeper parts of the woods.  
The sheriff explains how they found the body, utilizing police hounds they had acquired newly and how identification of the victim is a bitch.   
“So, this was animal attack you think?” Sam asks.  
“You don’t?” The sheriff asks  gruffly, looking up at Sam to scrutinize him for the first time. Sam jutts out his chin slightly in a challenge.  
Dean clears his throat at the sudden tension between the two men. “Uh, we’d like to explore all the possibilities.” He looks at Sam briefly before keeping his eyes on the man of the law.  
“Sure, sure.” The Sheriff says nodding.  
“Hey, are we going to have a problem, sheriff?” Sam asks.  
“No, agent.”  
“Then I suggest you provide us with a copy of the files for each murder. We can not let more people get killed.” Sam says with an authoritative tone.  
After the sheriff walks away muttering something, Dean looks at Sam as if to say, what crawled up your ass today?  
Sam simply shrugs and stalks ahead of Dean mutely.

  
Back at the motel that evening, Sam and Dean spread out the individual murder files on Sam’s bed and go through each of them over burger and coke. Both of them sitting on either side of the bed.   
“Dean, get this.” Dean looks up from his file about the latest victim. “All the victims were…camping out near the same pub.” Dean purses his lips. “And guess what? Its just around the edge of the thin woods.”  
“So, we just gotta check out the pub then. Tonight?” Dean asks feeling quite happy to have a lead so early into the case.  
“Sure.” Sam says without looking from his file. He  has been avoiding looking at Dean since..well, after the last case.  
“Sam?”  
“Hmm?” Sam says slurping from his straw while turning over a page with his clean hand.  
“You okay man?” Dean asks.  
“Yes Dean! God, how many times do I have to say before you believe it, huh?” Sam is looking at him finally. Dean suddenly wishes he was looking at his file instead.  
“What’s got you so riled up?” Dean's starting to get upset himself.  
“Oh, I don’t know, your face? Or that you keep trying to control me, telling me what to do. Always Dean.” Sam’s voice turns into a whine.   
Dean gets taken aback. Sam was being unreasonable of course. He has always protected Sam and sometimes that asked for taking the lead and giving orders. Its always been like that. He didn’t think his little brother ever had a problem with it.   
“Well, someone had to.” Dean says firmly because he has nothing better to say to Sam right now.  
“Yeah.” Sam scoffs. He looks up at Dean again through his lashes, slanted eyes suddenly full of secrets.   
Dean swallows. This was not Sam and yet it was him at the same time. Dean only remembers a time Sam had looked at him that way and it was during the summer when he was 20 and Sam was 16.  
Dean suddenly feels a thought creeping into his mind, although close but out of reach.   
“Sam..”  
Sam’s eyes flicker between Dean’s and rests on his mouth. He looks up again and Dean could see his  hazy eyes, as if he was drunk.  
And it hits Dean. These past few days. Sam being difficult, complaining about their food, complaining about Dean’s chewing habits. And today Sam’s confrontation with the sheriff and his whining, the looks he throws at Dean.  
“ Oh god, no.” Dean gasps.   
“What?” Sam says, annoyed again.  
Dean shakes his head, clearing it of all the memories he had of teenage Sam.   
“Sam , you remember the witch case right? A couple of days back?” Dean asks carefully.  
“Yeah..” Sam drawls like Dean is being stupid again.  
Dean huffs out a breath of relief. So it wasn’t a memory loss thing, or even a de-aging spell because he’s pretty sure he’d notice if Sam started to get shorter or smiled with those dimples on baby cheeks, shy eyes casting down as he did.   
“Dean?” Sam asks, searching Dean’s face.    
“Sam, I think the witch’s spell was more than just an asthma causing fog.”  
“What? What do you mean?”   
“Don’t you feel different?” Dean really has no idea how he is going to explain this to Sam.  
“Different how?” Sam cocks his head a little to his right to look at Dean, hair falling slightly over his left eye. God.  
“Do you feel…I don’t know, hormonal?” Dean cringes at the word.  
Sam’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Haha Dean. Funny. I guess your jokes are getting old just like you are.” He shakes his head, biting his bottom lip and looks down at the file on his lap.   
This is going to be a hard one to tackle, Dean thinks miserably.

  
They do decide to take a look around the pub. Dean needs a drink and to solve this case before he can go back and track down that bitch.  
“Uh, two beers.” Sam was saying to the bartender when Dean sits down beside his brother on the wobbly bar stool. Dean watches as Sam’s eyes tracks the bartender as he moves to the cooler at the far side of the bar to retrieve two chilled beers.   
“Here you go.” The bartender says smiling slightly at Sam and placing the beers in front of them.   
“Thanks.” Dean says but the bartender nods at Sam once, and moves away to cater to another patron gesturing at him from the corner.  
Sam snorts out a short laugh and picks up his beer. Finally, looking at Dean he raises his eyebrows as he takes a swing of his beer.  
Dean feels irrationally annoyed and he knows it. Picking up his own beer, he swivels around on his stool and with his back to the bar, looks around. Its Friday. There's around a dozen patrons in the pub and four college kids at one table talking loud enough for Dean to make out their quickly changing topics of discussion. Thinking back to the case, Dean wonders how stupid one must be to pick up victims from the same place not thrice but like six times. He feels secretly glad that monsters can not outsmart them any time soon.  
Sam was looking out through the crack of the pub entrance. He thought he saw a shadow move but his brain has been hazy today, unfocused. He knows something is not completely okay with him but he feels defensive anytime Dean opens his mouth to ask him. God, Dean and his fucking mouth.  
“Get you another one?” The bartender was saying. Sam turns around, eagerly, but he couldn’t understand why he was feeling anxious around this man. Sam is aware of the attention that he gets all the time since he went to Stanford. He hasn’t felt this need  to please or something since he was a teenager.   
“Sure.” Sam smirks and then leers when the bartender licks his lips quickly. Seriously.  
A movement at his right makes Sam jerk his head to see through the door again. Something.  
“Sam, dude!” He hears Dean say loudly close to him. Sam looks back at his brother, instantly pissed.  
“Are you trying to damage my eardrums?” Sam says.  
“I think those are already damaged. Dude, you were spacing out.” Dean says, righting his seat to face Sam.  
“No, ther-” Sam starts to tell Dean about his hunch, maybe scope the place out since it is getting dark. But the bartender interrupts him.  
“Your beer. On the house.” He smiles at Sam broadly. Sam forgets what he was about to tell Dean.  
“Really?” Sam says. _God, he’s acting like a horny child_ , Dean thinks. “What if I wish to pay anyway?”  
  _He’s not even smooth._

  
And then the bartender leans forward slightly, his tall frame already covering the breadth of the bar, and he whispers, face inches from Sam, “Then, I will let you.”  
Dean couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. He looks at Sam and there he was, eyes glassy like he has downed a six pack instead of only a single beer. He watches, frozen, as Sam starts to close the few inches between him and the guy.  
Their lips meet and Dean still watches. Sam steadies the bartender’s face with one giant hand as his tongue disappears between their joined lips. Sam lets out a broken moan.  
Both Dean and the bartender stiffen at the sound, so desperate. And so fucking hot.  
“Sam!” Dean barks. Suddenly remembering the curse and feeling protective and aroused.  
The bartender breaks the kiss to look at Dean. Sam tries to chase the contact but halts when he realizes. He flushes immediately.   
The bartender slips his number to Sam as Dean grabs him by his arm and leads them outside in haste.  
Dean shoves Sam towards the shadows on instinct, far from the entrance door.

  
“What. The hell?” It was Sam who shouts, breathing heavily.   
Dean looks at the wet ground, the chilling air clearing his head. He sighs.  
   Sam takes a step closer, hands in his jacket pocket. Dean suddenly can see Sam, his bulge through his pants as he steps closer and into his line of vision. “Dean”, Sam breathes out like its killing him slowly.  
Dean tightens his fists on either sides and looks up.  
“Whats happening to me Dean?” Dean starts at the desperation in Sam’s voice. He was expecting more arguments, not this.  
“It’s the witch.” Dean says and Sam nods like that’s obvious. “I think, I don’t know exactly but, I think it’s a curse.”  
Sam nods again, not looking away. “So what do we do? Beside, kill the witch.” Sam asks flatly.  
“First we need to see what exactly is the curse Sam. It could be-“  
“Life-threatening? Maybe. Doubt it. But embarrassing? Totally.” Sam starts to walk past his brother towards the brightly lit pub entrance. Dean frowns. “We need to solve this case first Dean.”  
Dean is aware of that fact. It frustrates him. Sam is clearly no longer oblivious to his little condition and its fucking him up. Dean doesn’t know how long before he does something disastrous himself. Its like Sam’s condition is Dean’s own personalized curse.  
They stay till last call. Sam chatting up the college kids and Dean talking to a local man in his fifties.  
“I tell ya, people are capable of anything. Ain’t no bears around this town. Or any large animals in the woods.” The old man was saying, drinking his whiskey. Dean nods lost in thought himself, surprised to find himself agreeing with the man. “Well I got to go young man. See you tomorrow.” He says as if he and Dean were old pals.  
Dean looks around for Sam and sees him heading towards the back and step into the bathroom.  
He figures this is the only right time to chat up the bartender. Before Sam decides to.  
“I see you are back.” The bartender says although he did serve Dean his fourth beer like twenty minutes ago. “Where’s your..friend?”  
“Friend?”  
The guy rolls his eyes. “Boyfriend?”  
Dean opens his mouth to correct him but stops. It was irrelevant anyway, irrelevant to the case.  
“Have you heard about the murders recently?”  
“Everyone has, yeah.” He slaps the towel onto his shoulder and fixes Dean with a look. “Why?”  
“Well, we are with the FBI, me and him”, Dean gestures towards the bathroom vaguely, “and I think you could help us.”  
“What’s it got to do with me?” The bartender asks bewildered.  
“Nothing, nothing.” Dean chuckles. “Its that all the murders-“  
“Dean!” Dean alerts and looks to where Sam comes running from the front door towards him.  
“Lets go.” He says and Dean follows him out without a word. This was an urgency.

  
  “I saw a shadow, Dean. It disappeared into the woods.” Sam was saying as they walked around nearing the edge of the woods.   
“Okay. And?” Dean asks as he takes his gun out and clicks the safety off.  
“I think it was carrying its seventh victim.” Sam swallows.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Sam have been walking for a while now finding no sign of anything supernatural.   
Dean is still on alert, specially because they have no idea what they are dealing with here. All he has are silver bullets loaded into his gun, a silver knife in his jacket and some holy water. Sam’s probably got Ruby’s knife on him. They could still be easily over powered and Dean doesn’t like that thought as they  walk deeper and deeper into the woods, a flashlight guiding their way and Sam following behind closely. Every now and again, Sam would trip and bump into Dean’s back and Dean would try not to notice the warmth radiating on his back. Sam had apologized the first few times but gave up on it when it just kept happening. Sam is losing focus again. The windy forest did nothing to clear his mind, or stop the burning in his gut whenever he looked at Dean’s ass, swinging a few metres ahead of him. He has been so hard for so long now.  
Dean looks at his watch and stops.   
Sam collides with his back. Doesn’t move back.  
“This is pointless.” Dean whispers in the silent of the trees.  
“Why?” Sam whispers back, close to Dean’s ear. Dean shivers.  
“We are not prepared Sam. We have been following a cold trail for”, he looks at his watch, “twenty minutes and we are no close to finding anything or saving anyone tonight.” He looks back at Sam who has his tongue on his cheek and looking back at Dean with a thoughtful expression.  
“You are right.”   
“You know Sam, I hate this as much as you do but we gotta be practical about this.”  
“I know Dean. I do. Just, lets just head back okay. I just thought of something.”  
“Yeah?” Dean says in a low voice and turns around. Sam walks alongside his big brother.  
There is a rustle in the trees, few feet behind them. Both the hunters pause midstep and look at each other meaningfully.  
Dean ducks to his side while Sam ducks to his simultaneously. The shadowed figure sweeps towards where they were standing a moment ago. Sam reaches for his flashlight frantically.  
He hears a shot and then a thud, heavy mass landing near his feet.   
Dean comes to stand beside him before Sam leans over the body with his flashlight trained on the back of its head. He turns over the body and it’s the bearded guy in old dirty clothes he had seen earlier. The guy Sam saw being carried away by the monster. He closes his eyes briefly feeling hollow.  
A moment passes before Dean’s hand lands on Sam’s shoulder squeezing it. Telling him to get a grip, to move. To tell him its okay.  
“Sammy…”   
“Did I just shoot a person Dean?” Dean stays silent.  
 Sam starts to heave, breathing heavily. Dean helps his brother on his feet and drags him away for the second time in the last few hours. Sam keeps looking back.  
Back at the motel, Dean tries to calm him down but he wont stop mumbling frantically. Overreaction. Another one of those symptoms. Fucking witch, Dean thinks.  
“Sam, listen.” He drops Sam on his own bed since Sam’s is still strewn with multiple case files. Sam looks blankly at the opposite wall. “Sammy!” Dean shakes him.  
“I killed him Dean. I fucking-“  
“Shut up. It was an accident for fuck’s sake. Give me your gun.” Dean demands. He feels like he is dealing with a child here.  
Sam doesn’t move to do as asked. So Dean digs into his waistband and pulls out his gun, the safety is on. Dean frowns in confusion for a moment.  
“Dean.” He looks away from the gun at his hand and is met with Sam’s teary eyes.  
“Oh bab-“ Dean shuts up and pulls his distraught brother into a hug. Sam puts his arms around Dean immediately, like he was waiting for it and holds on tight.  
Dean rocks them both for several minutes. When he thinks Sam fell asleep, Dean tries to pull away but Sam fists his shirt into balls and pulls him closer. Dean suddenly feels terrified.  
“Don’t” Sam gasps against his neck, mouthing lightly, breathing Dean in. “Dean, god” he says hoarsely.  
Dean knows he is supposed to pull away. This isn’t Sam and even if it was, that’s a line they will never cross, ever. He just needs to let him down easy. Sam is fragile right now.  
“Sam, hey. You need to get some sleep man.” Dean tries to pull Sam’s arm away as gently as possible.  
Sam shakes his head. “That’s not what I need.” He says with conviction. Dean is reminded of a twelve year old Sam who had said that he wanted to go to college. Strong-willed Sam.  
“I’m right here. We need to solve this case, lift the curse off of you remember?” Dean was starting to think maybe amnesia was part of the curse but then Sam says yeah Dean, its okay and Dean believes all will be okay.    
  
 The next morning, Sam wakes up in his brother’s bed, closest to the door. Alone. He remembers Dean’s arms around him, smelling like home, stroking his hair when he thought he was asleep, just like he used to when they were kids. Sam groans. He cant think straight. He needs…  
His morning wood makes itself known when he flips on his stomach. Mindlessly, he begins rutting violently against the bed, pressing his face into the pillow that smells like Dean’s sweat and hair gel. He ruts faster, the bed squeaking with each thrust. He remembers kissing the bartender last night, Dean watching them with wide eyes. He takes shallow breathes, scenting Dean and getting close. Fuck, fuck, fuck.  
He comes thinking about Dean tipping his head back and putting his tongue in Sam’s mouth.   
The door falls open and Dean walks in with two plastic bags of food and drinks. Sam has barely slowed down his rutting, aftershocks tingling in his veins, making him slow and uncaring when Dean eyes fall on the body in his bed. The room falls silent.  
And it smells of sex. Dean clears his throat loudly and continues talking about whatever he was saying when he had walked in.  
Sam climbs out of bed feeling tightly wound despite his very recent relaxing activities and locks himself inside the bathroom.   
When he comes out, the first thing he sees is that dean’s bed is covered in food wrappers and Sam’s bed is still being used as an office desk. Dean is unwrapping his food on the small table near the door.  
Quietly, Sam walks to his bed and looks at the open files.  
“Eat your food Sam.” Dean says gruffly. Sam ignores him.  
After Dean is finished with breakfast, he goes to his bed and starts taking out Sam’s veggie burger and eggs. Sam clears his throat.  
“Dean, did the sheriff mention who autopsied the victims?”  
“Here.” Dean hands him his food which is already starting to get cold. “And no. Why, what are you thinking?” Dean sits on the edge of his bed.  
Sam takes a small bite out of his burger. He finds it soggy. “Its just a hunch. We should talk to the guy. Here it says his name is, Chris Mahogany.”   
“What?” Sam barks when Dean doesn’t say anything.  
Dean winces before speaking, “I was thinking we should deal with the witch first Sam.” Sam looks at him horrified.  
“And let more people die Dean?” Dean opens his mouth to say of course not, they’ll let someone else handle it. “I already killed one of the victims for the monster Dean. I have to save the next one.” Sam chews the remainder of his sorry burger.  
Dean opens his mouth again to comfort Sam and then he remembers. Sam’s gun.  
He stands up suddenly, walks towards their weapons bag and grabs the gun on the top of the pile. He scents it as he sits back in his place on the bed.  
“What is it?” Sam asks while he drinks his shake and watches his brother take the gun apart.  
“See, Sam. Your gun hasn’t been fired at all for a while.” Dean says putting the gun back together.  
“The fuck?”  
“Yeah exactly.”  
“We may not be dealing with monsters here.” Says Sam slowly. Relief washing over him, the guilt all but an aftershock now.  
“The old man was right.”  
Sam looks confused. Dean shakes his head.  
They head into the police station in the next hour to see where the dead bodies are kept. Dean keeps getting distracted by Sam’s broad shoulders in his fitted suit. He briefly remembers how Sam had seemed normal today. _Well, if you ignore the morning incident_ , Dean thinks. And he did ignore it because curse or no curse, a man has the right to get off damn it. _But not on his big brother’s bed, moaning his big brother’s name_ , a helpful voice supplied in his head. Dean sighs.  
They head to the morgue, after assuring the sheriff that they will be fine on their own. He was insistent although Sam had been quite rude to him yesterday. He also insisted on giving Dean his number in case they needed more information or anything at all.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam tugs him by his arm into a cold room suddenly.  
“Are we breaking in?” Dean whispers harshly.  
Sam rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to do this in front of Chris.” Seeing Dean’s blank expression he adds, “the doctor who autopsied the bodies.” He murmurs pay attention under his breath before he stalks towards the first slot. Dean heard him of course.  
“Right. Might pick a fight with him too?” Dean says.  
Sam looks over his shoulder. “Only if he keeps eyeing you too.”   
Dean’s breath gets caught at that. Sam grimaces. Too Impulsive.  
They are examining the sixth victim which they had seen yesterday, freshly shredded when Sam makes an observation, “Isn’t it weird that all the victims looks the same?”  
“You mean like, homeless people looking like each other, or..?”  
“Dean!” Sam rolls his eyes. “The bodies are shredded exactly the same way, every time. It looks like a surgery.”  
Dean says, “So, it was done by a creature of brain.”  
“And, the heart is missing.”  
“What?” Dean exclaims. “No, the sheriff explicitly told me-“  
“Yeah, I know. Your sheriff was telling the truth. This body had all its organs but the heart is missing only now.”  
“Yeah.” Chris says from the door. “He was an organ donor so we had to hurry up before the heart became useless. By the way, it did become useless. We were too late.”  
“You are…Chris?” Sam asks.  
“Yes, the one. I could have told you all these details if you had bothered to call me.”  
“And who did?” Dean asked walking casually towards the guy with the white lab coat on.  
“The sheriff of course.”  
Sam almost rolled his eyes.  
“Right. So any idea what might have done this?” Dean asks. Sam gives him a hard look as he removes his gloves and follows Dean to the door.  
“A wild animal? It’s not my job to find out you know.” Chris says closing the door to the last slot.  
“Of course. We’ll leave you to your dead bodies then.” Dean nods and they both leave hurriedly.  
Once in the impala, Dean looks at Sam to explain, quickly.  
“The bodies weren’t missing hearts, but were missing livers Dean. All of them.”  
  
“It’s a shapeshifter called Aswangs.” Sam announces that evening after Dean had cleaned all the weapons and was about to go take a long bath.  
“And?” Dean asks distractedly. He has been trying to track down the witch since last night, making a couple of phone calls and going through the local news in that area. A retired hunter may have something. Dean is waiting impatiently for his call, hence the cleaning of guns.  
“Loves livers and pregnant women,” Dean makes a gagging sound, “yeah, and can transform into a big dog or half animal, that explains the surgical way of murder. He was not completely transformed like a werewolf so he-“  
“So he had the sense to only attack people that wouldn’t be missed.” Dean finishes.  
“Like a serial killer.” Sam says as he types away at his laptop. “Killed by silver dipped steel knife.”  
“Think we can arrange that. But who’s our shapeshifter?”  
  They look at each other before Dean’s phone start vibrating on the table.  
“Yup.” Dean answers and goes into the shower with his phone which Sam finds odd.  
They decide to just graze suspects with their silver knife, see who flinches. Sam wanted to try the sheriff which Dean found funny and rejected immediately. If Sam gets to do the sheriff, he must get to do the bartender and that will not go well in any universe, so Dean is trying to be smart about this.  
They head out to the morgue. Chris is closing up the front desk when they catch up to him and Sam engages Chris in some dead body trivia kind of thing and leads them to the freezer where they kept the bodies to settle some kind of bet. When they cut into the flesh of an old body still in investigation and Sam _accidentally_ scratches Chris’s palm with the sharp knife, Chris calls him a hazard and chases them away. But Chris never reacted, besides stepping away from Sam carefully to avoid anymore accidents.  
They were heading for the police station but incidentally bumped into the Sheriff outside the morgue itself. Apparently he and Chris were dating. It was not as easy to subtly get a sharp object past a police officer but Dean charmed the fellow with his smile. He even had to hold a long embrace with the sheriff just so Sam could graze it against his exposed neck.  
The sheriff flinches. Dean tightens his hold around the man. Sam wastes no time in cutting the man where the knife had touched and the sheriff howls in pain.  
Dean gets the sword out from his jacket and beheads the shapeshifter in one swift movement. Just then, a familiar voice calls from somewhere behind his back.  
“Sammy!” Sam was being held around his throat by sharp, long nails emerging from a hairy arm of a wolf. Chris’s hard eyes were on Dean.  
“Dean, I hate doing this but seeing that you killed my lover, I have to kill your beloved.” Chris speaks grimly. “Pretty boy Sammy.” He whispers to Sam.  
“No! You wont hurt a hair on Sammy, or I swear to God.” Dean sneers.  
Sam rarely gets to watch this. Dean’s protective side has always been a part of him but in this intensity, is a rare sight. Not because Sam had never had close death encounters but because he is mostly too unconscious to watch Dean threaten the one who hurts him. Its delightful, if Sam can admit to himself.   
“You will do what?” Chris mocks Dean with a chuckle. “I have nothing to lose.” He closes his paw around Sam’s throat. “I could rip his throat out. You know it has been years since I last killed? But I did not forget how to kill.”  
“You are a werewolf.” Sam says, breathing hard.  
“Yes. And I could smell the silver in you from miles away. I had to warn him you know, so I called him. A mere scratch can do nothing to me. But I knew he’d give himself away if you test him like you did me.”  
“Can you still smell the silver?” Dean asks suddenly.  
Before Chris’s confusion can clears, Sam stabs his stomach with the silver coated steel knife, just where the liver resides and ducks away from reaching claws and woeful roars. Dean swings his silver knife and it pierces the heart of the werewolf. Chris’s limbs go still after a minute.  
“You are bleeding.” Dean’s voice shakes a little.   
“I’m okay Dean.” Sam says, getting up from where he fell down to duck away from the swinging blade.   
“Come on.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

They get into the warmth of the impala parked nearby. Dean insists on bandaging up his brother before burning up the bodies.   
They do not speak. The adrenaline in their veins drops to a murmur by the time dean has cleaned the superficial wound and had taken the bandage in hand. Sam had leaned his head back and had watched Dean’s face the whole time through half lidded eyes.   
It was starting to come back. Sam could feel it. The fire in his gut, the breathlessness when Dean started to caress Sam’s neck to make sure the bandage stayed in place. He needs to get away before he loses control again.  
Dean pats him on the shoulder when he is done. He looks into Sam’s eyes briefly and then climbs out of the car to take care of the bodies. Sam slumps with exhaustion and left over fire in his gut.   
By the time they reach the motel Sam has had a short nap. They climb into their beds without a word.  
“Dean?”  
“Mmm?”  
“Where did you find out the witch was?”  
After a pause Dean replies, “Twenty-five kilometers from here.”  
Sam sits upright. “And you didn’t think of telling me.”  
“I was waiting for this case to be over Sam. God, I’m tired, can we do this tomorrow?” Dean punches the pillow a few times and turns his head to face the other wall.  
Something takes over Sam, a blinding, stupid rage. “Tomorrow, my curse could be making me even more insane than I already am.” Sam says in a controlled voice that doesn’t fool Dean.  
“You were fine today.” Dean doesn’t look at Sam.  
“I pretended to be fine.” Dean rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling.   
“I know.” Dean sighs.   
“Dean, I need to ask you something.” He continues without pausing. “When did you know I was cursed?”  
“You were complaining.” Dean answers too quickly.  
“So that means I am born cursed?”  
Dean scoffs. Its not even funny since Sam really was born cursed, cursed by demon blood and fucking twisted destiny involving the devil.   
“Tell me.”  
There is no answer for a long time. Sam lays back down on his bed and stares at the ceiling like his brother, arms pillowing his head.  
Maybe because it was nighttime and darkness has a way of revealing secrets, Dean speaks.  
“You were acting like a teenager. Getting angry at the smallest things, flirting.”  
Sam continues to stare up ahead, listening to Dean. “And then, you looked at me like, _Jesus_ , you wanted me to just take you _right_ there. Just like you used to when you turned sixteen and shot up like a weed. Before you even knew you were freaking jailbait Sam.” Dean sounded like he was in pain.  
Sam was starting to breath hard. The words affecting him more than it should. But he could not tell Dean to stop because he needs to hear this. Finally, finally.   
“I knew it was the mess in my head making me that way. It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid. You had no idea how you affected me.” A shaky exhale. “I made you like this.”  
Sam looks to Dean from his position. The silhouette of him sending anticipation through Sam’s blood. He needs to focus. “I wanted you Dean, much before I knew what it meant to want somebody.”  
“It was on me. I raised you. I influenced you.”  
“Oh, don’t be such a dick. Not everything revolves around you.” Sam says loud enough to break the trance they were in since the impala.   
“It doesn’t matter anyway. Good night Sam.” Sam watches Dean’s eyelids close.

  
So this was it then, Sam thought feeling defeated. They have been circling each other for days, maybe years and nothing comes out of it.  
Sam’s hormone addled, impulsive brain tells him to do something drastic, like kiss Dean or put his dick in his mouth and wake him up but he still has his adult mind to stop him from such stupidity. Its funny ‘cause Sam’s teen-brain was probably less Dean-crazy than his cursed-teen-brain seems to be. He has never felt such need before. Its so consuming he can’t think straight.  
Sam hardly gets any sleep, unsurprisingly. And he is so _hard_ but he cant make himself touch. His entire body craves for his brother.

  
 At first light Sam jumps out of bed.

He is pretty sure he cant get off by himself. Nothing feels enough. But he still gets under the spray of the shower and soaps up his hands.   
He strokes himself a few times, testing the waters. His dick jerks up everytime he sees Dean behind his closed eyelids.   
Dean wakes up with a start. He wonders what woke him. Then he hears it again. Sam grunting and then a loud noise like chunk of plaster falling into the bathroom floor.  
Sam.  
He rushes out of his covers and towards the bathroom, chanting Sam’s name in his mind. Dean suddenly imagines Sam bleeding out on the bathroom floor. Panic grips him.  
“Sammy?” Dean inquires after he is inside the unlocked door.  
No answer. “Sam!” Dean pulls the shower curtain back to see Sam facing the wall, one arm above his head. His knuckles are split open and when Dean checks he sees a chunk of the tile missing. “Hey man, I thought you slipped and cracked your head open or something.” Dean tries to joke, waiting for his heart to stop jumping up his throat.  
Sam flexes his shoulder blades. Tensed, Dean concludes. His eyes travel south to where he was looking at Sam and at last registers Sam’s utter nakedness. Dean turns around to face the mirror above the sink.  
“Are you alright?” Dean asks.  
“No.” Sam cries out. Dean reluctantly doesn’t turn around. “I can’t.”  
Dean swallows. These were the two words Sam had said when he had tried to explain to Dean how he cant hunt with them, how he has to get away. Sam is leaving.  
“Dean, I can’t get off!” Sam says frustrated. Dean looks back over his shoulder at Sam’s other arm hanging at his side limply.   
Dean considers saying something in the line of Let me help like he has seen in so many pornos. But this is Sam. Sam, acting like he did when he first started having erections and Dean could hear him at night trying to get off. He eventually got the hang of it, without needing his big brother’s help.  
“I’m sure it’ll..go away Sammy.”  
“I have been hard the whole damn night, Dean.” Sam says bitterly like this was Dean’s fault.  
Dean winces feeling Sam’s situation. “Lets go out and find you a-“  
“I do not need some whore to fuck!” Sam pants. “You _know_. Dean.” Sam moans his brother’s name without even realizing it. Dean, Dean, Dean. Sam’s brain wouldn’t shut up the entire night.   
“Dean please.” Sam says at last. He begs.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean could never say no to Sam. Not when he is in so much pain. Not when he has been sporting a hard on himself since he saw Sam’s naked ass as soon as he got out of bed.  
 This must be a different kind of apocalypse for them, Dean thinks.  
“What do you need Sam?” Dean turns around to face his brother’s bare back.  
 Sam shivers. “Touch me?”   
Dean nearly falters as he goes to stand beside Sam, eager to reassure him. “I got you.”  
Dean takes Sam’s limp hand and puts it on his hard dick which was starting to look angry red. He starts to maneuver Sam’s hand to stroke but Sam whimpers in frustration further. He looks at Sam’s face and finds his eyes hooded and staring back at Dean. Dean swallows and joins Sam’s hand with his own.  
Sam hisses at the first real contact. They find a rhythm soon, fingers lacing together, stroking Sam steadily, pace becoming faster with each upwards motion.   
Soon Sam starts to thrust himself into their joined palms, grunting and calling Dean’s name like he is not sure this is happening.   
“I’m close. Dean..gonna..” Sam squeezes his eyes shut as he comes, hand going limp but Dean continues to milk him until there is nothing left.   
They stay like that for a while. Eventually Dean lets Sam go and starts to turn back. Sam grabs him by the arm that has Sam’s come sticking to the fingers. He turns away from the wall, kneels on the wet bathtub at Dean’s feet and looks up at his shocked face.  
Sam reaches out with one hand to feel Dean’s erection through his pants when Dean steps back. Sam leans forward to hold Dean’s hip and pull him to his previous spot. The fire in his gut has started to burn hotter this time. He unbuttons the pants and lets them fall to the floor. Above him, Dean is looking at Sam without a blink and breathing hard like he has been running.  
Sam starts to mouth the hot length in front of his face through threadbare boxers feeling it twitch. He moans.  
That’s when Dean step back again. He picks his pants up from the floor and goes out of the bathroom in long strides.  
Sam follows him.   
Dean holds up his hand stopping Sam from getting any closer. Sam steps forward until Dean’s palm connect with his wet chest. Dean retracts his hand immediately like it had touched hot metal. Sam crowds Dean against the wall.  
“Stop. Sam.” An order.  
Sam shakes his head no. “You want this. I can see you. And I need this Dean.” Sam whispers, now chest to chest with Dean.  
“So what? You are gonna force-“  
“You want it don’t you? You said so last night.” Sam feels exposed. Dean looks at him and he feels like a stranger all of a sudden.  
Dean presses his lips together into a thin line. He knew it was a bad idea to say all that to Sam but he just couldn’t stop himself.  
“Things have changed now Sammy.”  
They stare each other down. Dean waiting for Sam to call him a liar and Sam hoping that they don’t have to go back after what’s happened. He wouldn’t be able to pretend.  
Sam leans down, forward and kisses Dean. Dean doesn’t cooperate immediately and Sam is left to finding a suitable angle by himself.   
He holds Dean’s face with both hands and presses closer. Their hips lining up down to their toes. Sam gives a sharp thrust forward with his hips. Dean gasps as their crotches press and Sam takes the opportunity to taste Dean. As soon as their tongues meet Dean angles up his face to get more of Sam inside his mouth. They both growl.   
“Fuck.” Sam gasps after a moment. He leans forward for more.  
Dean has his hands on Sam’s ass, pulling him closer for each thrust. Sam’s sure there’s going to be bruises later. The thought makes him even more hard.  
When they break, Sam kneels down again and pulls Dean’s boxers down swiftly.  
“Sammy?” Dean asks. His eyes going wide.   
Sam takes him into his mouth without allowing Dean time to think. Each time Sam would suck, Dean would say fuck in the most debauched way Sam had heard.  
His hair is pulled with tremendous force seconds before Sam’s brother is coming down his throat, thrusting shallowly, never taking his eyes off of Sam. Sam chokes.  
“Sorry.” Dean says softly, taking his dick out. Sam doesn’t move although his knees are killing him. His strokes himself a few times looking up at Dean and comes all over the floor.  
Dean looks in wonder. And suddenly, as Sam watches, feeling horrified, Dean’s face hardens and he looks away.  
No. He tracks Dean as he walks to his duffle, takes out a fresh pair of jeans and flannel and disappears inside the bathroom.  
When Dean comes out he finds Sam asleep on his bed. He silently takes his keys and boots and slips out of the motel.   
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sam smells cheese and fries before he is fully awake. His stomach rumbles in response. Opening his eyes slightly he sees Dean taking off his boots at the door.   
When Dean looks up, Sam shuts his eyes again, feigning sleep. He is not ready to face whatever Dean dishes out right now. Dean steps around silently, puttng the food down on the tiny table by the door.  
The door slams shut softly.  
Sam opens his eyes and finds the room empty. The impala roars to life outside their room, its sound getting fainter as Sam starts to sit upright. Did Dean leave for good?  
He looks towards Dean's bed. His things are still here.  
"Thats a good sign." Sam says aloud gulping spit to reassure himself.  
When after two hours there's no sign of his brother, Sam allows himself to panic a little. The food remains uneaten.  
" 'llo" Dean answers his phone.  
"Dean where the hell are you?" Sam practically shouts.  
"Hey." A  half hearted attempt at sounding casual. "Thought i'd scope out the witch's lair before we get down tonight."  
"You went alone."  
"You were sleeping."  
"You've waked me up for a lot less."  
"Okay, okay, alright. I'm almost there anyway." And surely, after fifteen minutes, Dean is back.  
The relief is short-lived for Sam. Dean wouldn't even look at him.  
"I see the food's gone to waste." Dean comments to break the silence. Sam doesn't look up from his computer screen.   
"I found out something Dean." Sam says bracing himself. "About the curse."  
Dean leans against the door frame, arms crossed, "Is it bad?"  
Sam shrugs. "I have been reading up on different types of curses and how witches go about making them."  
Dean raises his eyebrows.  
Sam shakes his head. "There's something i gotta ask you first." Dean uncrosses his arms and walks into the middle of the room.   
"There's nothing to say Sam. Now get on with the case."   
"Its not -", Sam huffs, "Okay. The case. The curse has to be a back yard experiment the witch was doing because it is a mixture of several little curses."  
"Little? So..."  
Sam continues, "The emotional de-aging was a simple one. Just infant bones and-"  
"Just?"  
"-a fairy's life force. The...other part looks like a minor fuck-or-die curse. Its unusually slow this one. Something probably went wrong there."  
"Wait a second." Dean holds up his palm. Sam looks up from his screen, eyebrows raised. "A minor Fuck-or-die curse? You mean you could die from this?"   
Sam Shrugs again. "The third must have something to do with soul-mates or...true love or that sort of thing." Sam says the last part quickly in a low voice.  
"Sam.."  
Sam gets up from his position on the bed and starts packing his things. "We gotta kill her Dean. All this will be over then."  
"You sure about this?" Dean asks.  
Sam finishes zipping his duffle. "Uh, yeah."  
Dean watches Sam go into the bathroom, everything else packed and ready to go. He begins packing his own weapons deep in thought about what Sam had said. Something feels off to him.  
 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
They have been sitting in the impala for over an hour, waiting for the fucking witch to show up. Dean's butt feels numb from sitting still for too long . Now and then he'd subtly look over at Sam but Sam would keep his gaze locked on the house, never acknowledging Dean in any way.  
Dean was worried to put it lightly. He doesn't know what Sam was feeling. Always vocal about his feelings Sam, now shut like one of John's storage boxes of cursed objects. Apt, Dean thinks.  
Dean looks over at Sam again. The memories that comes everytime he lets his guard down are torture enough without Sam being all mysteriously cursed and his life hanging in the balance.  
Sam squirms in his seat. "Quit it." He says and meets Dean's eyes. "Its not helping Dean."  
Dean frowns . Sam sighs and says, "The curse. You looking at me every god damn minute, doesn't help the situation. So stop it!" He sounds angrier with each word.  
"Oh." Dean says lamely and goes back to staring at the shabby house. Dean assumed that after their little mishap Sam would be free of the fuck part of the curse at least. Guess you gotta actually fuck to-, Dean doesn't dare complete that thought.   
They have encountered many variations of a fuck-or-die curse. Seems like its the go-to curse for witches, or they simply enjoy imagining the consequences their curse may have resulted in. Dean remembers David, a hunter in North Dakota telling him about how he got stuck with the curse _after_ he had put the bullet into the witch. He had to find a bar and get it over it, thrice, in every way. _That was the extreme type_ , Dean thinks.   
But Sam has a combination of different curses, according to Sam himself. Dean fears it might not be so simple, even if it was as extreme as David's case. It might be far worse.   
He looks over at Sam again. Just to make sure he was okay, for now. Sam believes killing the witch should do it but Dean isn't so sure anymore. What will they do if it doesn't work? Reversing the curse will become just about impossible if the witch is dead.  
"She's here." Sam says sounding hoarse from hours of silence.  
The woman slides through the front door before Sam and Dean get out of the car parked under the canopy of trees nearby. Dean looks at Sam, "Maybe you should stay here. As backup."  
Sam's face goes from focused to pissed in a second, "Why don't you?"  
"Well, I'm not the one cursed here."  
"Do you wish to be? By going in there alone?"  
Sam had a point and it was a last ditch attempt to protect Sam anyway. He has a bad feeling about this one.  
They circle the house once before picking the lock on the back door and getting silently in. The interior is dark, not a flickr of light, except from the street lights outside. They take their guns out in synchronization, walking shoulder to shoulder into the kitchen.   
"I'd stop there is I were you." A voice says. A lamp flicks on brightly in the corner of the living room adjoining the kitchen. The witch is siting on a small couch, holding a wooden bowl in her lap. "I light this", she gestures to her lap, "and the cursed one goes from worse to, well, the _worst_."  
They stop, standing a few feet away from the living room.   
"And don't you even think about putting a bullet in me. Or else, you'll never find a cure. I can guarantee you that." she says.  
Sam lets out a short laugh. "We'll take our chances." He raises his gun at her.  
"Sam, no." Dean urgently interjects. "She might be right. We don't even know what we are dealing with here, man."  
The witch laughs, pleased. "You mean the curse i hit you with back at my real home? Oh it was nothing but my best work till now."  
"I'm sure its the only curse you managed to work. Even then, it wasn't very powerful was it?" Sam says condescendingly.   
Her lips thin as she looks at Sam from the couch. Suddenly she stands up, puts the bowl on the table before her. "Its a bit slow, surely. But the combination is simply....marvelous."  
"I think you put everything you could get your hands on and crossed your fingers. You got lucky." Dean fakes a smirk to rile her up even more. "You put what, five spells together?"  
"It was not luck!" She exclaims, eyes flashing. "It took me months to find out which spell cooperated with which ones. I had to test dozens on my hamster! He died."  
They remain silent, letting her tell all her secrets. Dean was hopeful she might say something useful. "Finally, I was able to create a curse that forced the human to seek out their first love and overwhelm them with a need that can give run to a high school kid going through puberty." She turns her back on them looking outside. "If they do find their love, well they still die because no deed can fulfill their soul. Only a soulmate could but lets be honest, what are the chances?" She looks back at Sam.  
"Trust me when i say, it didn't exactly work as you thought it would." Sam says lowering his gun and shooting the bowl between them.   
The witch steps back with a start. Dean steps forward, crushing bits of the bowl on the carpet. "Give me the cure and I'll make this quick."  
She laughs hysterically for a long time. "Haven't you figured it out yet?" Dean grinds his teeth together. "I have no cure! Why would i even bother?" She laughs some more and Dean puts a bullet in her head. The room goes silent instantly.

  
They hightail from there as soon they finish searching the house for  anything screaming dangerous including two books on dark magic. It was close to dawn when Dean drove them passed the state lines with Sam's head buried in one of the books they just retrieved.  
Close to noon, they finally stop at a motel called _O Hare_ and crash into their beds.

  
_Sam feels a strong hand wrapping around his throat, squeezing it just enough to be uncomfortable. Another hand is holding onto his thighs raised above him. Sam feels empty, like a piece of him missing. When he opens his eyes, there's Dean, eating Sam out of his ass and moaning. The hand in his throat disappears and Sam cries out in pleasure as his orgasm hits him. Dean laughs somewhere to his side_.

Sam wakes up all sticky with sweat. He is coming down with a headache and his stomach contracts painfully. _Dean, Dean, Dean_.  
Sam can't think. It's starting again, he thinks. But its worse this time. Like an avalanche, this need only gets bigger and more consuming. His vision starts to blur. To his left, he sees Dean on his stomach. Watching Sam.  
Sam's heart starts hammering as he climbs out of bed and goes to where Dean is sprawled, all laid out like a meal. He settles down on top of him, body fitting like jig-saw puzzles, his hard dick nestled in between Dean's ass. He pins Dean's hands on either side of his head and starts thrusting with earnest. Each puff of air hitting Dean's face on the side. He bites his earlobe, again and again then goes below the nape of his neck to taste him.   
Sam keeps thrusting but he can't seem to reach completion. He growls and pulls Dean's pants down to expose his ass with one hand.   
"Dean.." Sam exhales. He pulls his dick out and the contact leaves him relieved. He starts thrusting with vigor again. "Gonna fuck you Dean. Need it _right_ now." Sam pants out in between thrusts.  
The tip of Sam's dick grazes his hole before Dean moans out Sam's name. Sam quickly scrambles out of his clothes, feeling trapped, and settles on the bottom of the bed.   
Dean's body jerks with the first probe of wet hot tongue against his hole. His body lights up as Sam licks deeper and deeper into him, promising to make this good for him.   
After a while Dean starts pushing into Sam's tongue, begging for more. Sam puts two fingers in with his tongue, the sensation of getting filled up leaving Dean scrambling on the sheets. "Sammy, come on."  
With one last lick, Sam covers Dean's body with his own again and starts pushing in. The burn is incredible for the lack of lube and Sam's impatience. Dean reaches around to grab Sam's back and urges him in.  
Once Sam disappears into Dean's hole, he starts thrusting slowly, savoring the feel of Dean around his cock. "Fuck yeah." Sam exclaims. "So tight Dean. Tight as fuck." His thrusts gain momentum, slamming into his brother in rapid succession. Dean takes himself into his shaky hands and strokes once, twice before he is coming.  
Sam shuts his eyes against the incredible tightness and pushes in deeper and harder. He comes inside Dean panting his name over and over like a prayer against Dean's ear.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
Sam has been dozing off, still inside Dean. Since Dean hadn't asked him to climb out of bed he hasn't. Slowly, he takes his dick out, still wet. Dean squirms beside him and is soon climbing out of the bed.   
Sam blurts out without thining, "Are you mad?"  
Dean makes a beeline to the bathroom. He pauses at the door and says no before closing the door.  
Guilt eats away at Sam when he tries to remember the events of the past hour. He can't remember Dean consenting. Not once. His body liked it, sure, but that's not good enough for Sam. He needs to be absolutely sure Dean wanted this.  
So he decides to confront his brother as soon he walks out of the bathroom.  
"We gotta talk Dean." Sam says, standing between the beds.  
Dean towels his hair and tosses it into a corner and says, "About?"  
"About us Dean. About what happened."   
"Are you confused about what happened?" Dean says sarcastically. He doesn't look to be in a good mood.  
"Dean please." Sam pleads. And wishes that his big brother's naked chest wasn't such a distraction.   
"We fucked. That's what happened. So can I get dressed now?" Dean says looking anywhere but at Sam.  
 After a little hesitation Dean asks, "Do you stilll feel...cursed?"  
Sam thinks about it. Lets his eyes roam the skin before him, the muscles. He wants to touch him. But that's been always there. So he replies, "I don't know."  
Dean nods looking at his feet before walking past Sam. Sam steps before him.  
"Did you- did you do this _just_ to lift the curse?" Sam asks holding his breath.  
"Of course Sam." Dean shoulders past him to retrieve his clothes.  
"I took advantage of you." Sam whispers, more to himself than Dean.   
Dean inhales loudly before speaking. "I helped you. It was my decision Sam. Don't go blaming yourself over this."  
"But you didn't _want_ this!"  
"Did you?" Dean asks turning around to face Sam's back. "This was the only way Sam. Let it go."  
Sam looks at his brother sideways and says, "I did want it Dean."  
"Yeah, you were cursed remember? Probably still are. God, we are soulmates Sam. I was the only one who could break the curse."  
Sam barks out a bitter laugh. Dean can be thick sometimes. "I love you. Dean."  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  Dean had said nothing. He had gotten dressed and ordered Sam to get ready to leave before he had gone out to get food for their car ride ahead.  
Sam had felt his heart shatter but he had to keep it together. He can not force Dean into anything ever again. Certainly can not force him to return his feelings.   
They drive away from another motel, leaving with more tension than they were carrying before.  
Dean never speaks of the past week, like it never happened. Sam has mixed feelings about that. Their car rides are more silent and fleeting glances are scarce.  
   Sam thinks he might suffocate one day.

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Avril's "Give you what you like" and i thought some angst is in order. As always this story took me away from my original(very vague) idea but somehow the initial title still fits :)  
> There *might* be more of this story. Let's see.


End file.
